


kiss you once and then some more

by Mis_Shapes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Morning, Christmas Music, Christmas Stockings, Clubbing, F/M, Height Differences, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Theatre, pantomime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Collection of seasonal kiss prompt ficlets first posted on tumblrChap. 1 - Theon x Robb - Present wrappingChap. 2 - Theon x Jon - New Year's EveChap. 3 - Theon x Arianne - Christmastime clubbingChap. 4 - Theon x Jon - Christmas morningChap. 5 - Arya x Gendry - Flying home for ChristmasChap. 6 - Theon x Jon - Work Christmas partyChap. 7 - Jon x Satin - working late on Christmas EveChap. 8 - Theon x Jeyne - PantomimeChap. 9 - Theon x Jon - Snowball fight
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Satin Flowers/Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy/Arianne Martell, Theon Greyjoy/Jeyne Poole, Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 74





	1. Theon x Robb

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from What Christmas Means to Me if you're wondering! I was after something that encompassed the season but this happened.

“Are you done yet? It’s not a competition you know.”

Theon knows he’s in trouble the moment Robb’s knees hit the carpet beside him and he’s hit with the smell of pine from the novelty soap now in the shower, even before his wonderfully big hand reaches out and cups his jaw to turn his head into a kiss. He entertains the first one, keeping a hand on the box to keep the paper from falling open despite being sorely tempted to throw himself into it, especially when Robb’s lips part and make a successful bid to do the same to him.

“Stark,” Theon chuckles when they finally part, tearing tape from the dispenser. He tilts his head slightly to the side like it might stop Robb, now kissing his jawline, but he knows very well what it will result in. Robb’s plump lips fall from his cheek and to his throat, lavishing him with attention. “Stop, I’m never going to finish.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow,” Robb mumbles against his skin, nose nuzzling him softly. “Come to bed.”

Theon snorts. “‘We’ll’,” he repeats. “Not a chance. I dread to think the state they’ll be in if I put them in your hands.” Robb has never heard of folding nor creasing. He’s anything but neat, and Theon is fairly certain he’s never tied a bow in his life.

Robb’s hand closes around the half-wrapped present and tugs it from Theon’s own, and Theon can’t bear to put up much more than a half-arsed fight to take it back from him, not with the kisses against his neck. His hands stay at the edge of the table like there’s any possibility he will get back to the presents.

“You’re so rude to me.”

Theon might ask why, if Robb’s so hurt, he climbs over him, straddling his crossed legs until he’s practically sat in his lap. Too overcome with the rush from Robb’s affection, the way he kisses him and the thumb caressing his cheek, he fails to spot the way the opposite hand reaches back onto the table.

When Robb leans backwards into Theon’s hands that keep him from falling onto the coffee tables edge, he breaks out into a broad toothy grin and looks down into his hands, peeling back the cover of the sticky pad on one of the gift bows. Theon knows immediately what’s about to happen, the way this is going, so when Robb slaps it onto his chest he’s already shaking his head in faux disbelief.

“Merry Christmas,” declares Robb, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re so fucking cheesy.”

Robb’s hands are already moving back to his face to draw him back. “You love it.”

“I love it,” Theon agrees with a returned grin and succumbs to another kiss.


	2. Theon x Jon

“Are you being fucking serious?!” Jon yells, slamming the fridge door only to have it rebound back open.

Theon gapes at him, his hands flailing a little as he fights for the right words. Eventually, he hisses, closing the kitchen door, “what’s your problem?”

Jon sets the second bottle of champagne down onto the counter a little too heavily. “You know exactly what the problem is,” he says this with more conviction than he feels. He hopes Theon knows just so that he doesn’t come across as completely mad. What’s the harm really though, Theon already thinks that of him. 

“No, Snow, I really really don’t, why don’t you tell me.”

“It’s only been months.”

It’s a surprise none of the flutes smash with how Greyjoy takes them down from the cupboard. “Are _you_ being fucking serious? I had my arm round her! You’d think I was proposing or something.”

“Guys!” Sansa’s voice shouts through to them over the music. “Are you coming? It’s almost time.”

Jon’s hand tightens around the neck of the bottle. His heart races. He can’t say exactly why he doesn’t like it. Theon’s right - not that he’d ever tell him that; he can’t be expected to stay loyal in this sense to someone who’s never coming back. Especially not when they’ve each lived their own separate lives before what happened happened. But he knows how horrified he felt watching Theon get close to someone else.

“You know what I’d think if I didn’t know better? I’d think you were jealous.”

Jon’s expecting to find the characteristic smirk so common on Greyjoy’s face when he finally looks at him, but it’s not to be seen. “Fuck off,” he snaps all the same.

“No,” Theon shakes his head with a hint of a smile, “I don’t think I will, thanks.”

“You are,” the fingers on Jon’s free hand splay out, “you are so –” He clenches his hands, pressing his eyes closed. “I’ve never known anyone so infuriating,” he says over the ‘ten, nine,’ being shouted in the front room.

“Jon! Theon!” calls Arya somewhere in the background alongside ‘eight, seven’.

“Six, five,” is the point at which he’s aware of the champagne being tugged from his hand.

Jon opens his eyes at four, rapidly becoming aware of Theon being stood by him. Bloody hell, he even smells good. He can’t live like this.

“Three, two.” Greyjoy doesn’t move, doesn’t walk away to take things to the others. Instead, he pushes the bottle back slightly on the worktop.

On ‘one’, Jon braves looking at him. Presumably, Theon takes this to mean he’s expecting what happens next, that he expects the hand taking a grip on his shirt, pulling him into a kiss that takes his breath away. His eyes close at the sound of bell chimes and, despite the brevity in the press of lips, they only open once more at the customary butchering of Auld Lang Syne, as though he could cling onto the feeling and not acknowledge reality. When he does, at last, look, he finds Theon watching him expectantly, hand becoming lax. 

Sansa’s shout does at least give them enough warning to jump away from each other before she comes in, looking for the fizz. “What are you two playing at? You better not be tearing each other’s throats out. I’d like a better start to the year, please.”

Theon clears his throat, taking some of the glasses in hand. “Sorry, I’ll help with that.”

Hunched over the sideboard, head in his hands, Jon wonders how on earth he’s going to go back out there now. He’ll find Greyjoy with someone else, he has no doubt about that. He can’t be gaining expectations from one tradition fueled kiss. And a relatively chaste one at that. He knows that, so when he hears music flood the room and the opening of the door, he’s surprised to find Theon marching back over to him.

This time there’s nothing pure about the way Theon kisses. The counter’s edge digs into Jon’s back while Theon takes his lip between his teeth and runs the pad of a thumb down his throat. This is a bad idea, Jon knows that. But it feels like the best they’ve ever had in the moment.


	3. Theon x Arianne

The moment the intro of Santa Baby begins to play, Arianne spins around to face him with that look on her face. He smirks, watching as she slinks playfully over his way. To think a mere matter of months ago he’d only thought of her as that girl in his seminar group that took everything far too seriously, and now she’s trying not to laugh with the plastic rim of the cup full of the Cheeky Vimto she claims to be festive on account of the port between her front teeth.

Going to a Dornish uni is perhaps the greatest decision he’s ever made.

They’ve been doing this dance a while now. Not the over the top exaggerated moves to seasonal tunes, but the whole play flirting thing. Dancing this way with each other when another might take it the wrong way, or when they’re aiming to throw someone off. That’s not to say they don’t do the opposite. With this level of charisma, she serves as an excellent wingwoman. But to be perfectly honest, he’s surprised they’ve never slipped up and found themselves in one another’s beds.

She doesn’t make it the whole way across to him before she’s snatched away by one or another of her cousins, looking back over her shoulder at him with an expression that’s half wistful half amused. 

“She fancies you,” says a voice so close to his ear he has to rub it afterwards.

Theon eyes Jayne stood at his side and shakes his head a little, shouting to her over the music right as foam begins to fall from the ceiling, “it’s not like that.”

“Why not?” Jayne calls back.

With Arianne turning to look at them through the fake snow with an arched brow over what’s going on, Theon wonders why not too, especially when her face lights upon hearing the next song start splaying, to the point where when they each simultaneously point at each other on Mariah Carey’s ‘you’ he’s also second-guessing how much of a joke the sentiment it is.

Her heels slip slightly in the ‘snow’ this time when they make their way over to one another, and there’s a good deal of it caught up in her curls, so the next time she points her finger at him in time to the music he takes her hand and tugs her she half slides into him, laughing.

The young Dornishwoman looks up at him with a smirk of her own to match his and holds still as he gently removes the bubbles that have stuck to one set of lashes with the opposite hand holding her at her waist. The silk of her dress slips under his palm and over her soft curves. He’s just about finished when he feels something against his own forehead. Something Arianne is holding and looking up at to indicate he should too.

When and where she sourced the plastic branch of novelty mistletoe, Theon doesn’t know, but he suspects this might have something to do with why her attention was demanded by their companions.

His hand drops as he stoops to kiss her, cupping her arse to give a cheeky squeeze and making her laugh. She responds enthusiastically and throws her arms around his neck, aiding her balance while she raises on her tiptoes. They smile against one another’s lips before they do, at last, kiss. Because it’s all just a joke, isn’t it?

Only, he can see himself getting quickly hooked on such kisses.


	4. Theon x Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning fluff. Kinda T/M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe someone called for fluff? This is almost pure fluff, just a little moment otherwise... because I'm me. Soz.

The first thing Theon feels on waking is the warmth of Jon’s body pressed up against him, complete with the hand on his hip. The second comes when he stretches, his foot hitting something lumpy at the end of the bed. Something that crinkles suspiciously.

“Snow?” he asks, sitting up to investigate with a yawn. The air is cold and makes him immediately long to be back in Jon’s arms. It’s not even light outside yet, but then how many households manage to sleep in past sunrise at Christmas.

Groggy with sleep, Jon only murmurs in response.

“Snow,” Theon tries again, “we said no presents.”

Eyes still closed, Jon cracks a cheeky smile at remembering both the deal and presumably what he’s done. No one else has crept in here to leave only gifts for Theon. “Mmm… ‘s from Santa.”

Theon takes something squishy from the stocking that only be socks and chucks it playfully at him.

“Ow,” Jon says feebly, and rather unconvincingly it has to be said, sweeping his hand over his bare chest where he’d been hit.

“You agreed, no presents!”

“You’re not the boss of me,” he mumbles, reaching out to stroke Theon’s arm. “Merry Christmas.”

Looking between the full to bursting stocking in his hand and Jon laid half asleep, particularly sweet with his bedhead, Theon’s chest feels tight. He drops the presents from his hands and leans back to kiss him softly on the lips. “I’ve not… not since…” Not since his mum had still been able to put together such a thing.

Jon opens his eyes just enough to see him and reaches forwards to move his hair gently back from his face. “I guessed.”

“You’re such an arsehole,” Theon accuses him.

Jon laughs. “Excuse me?”

“It’s too early for this level of sentimentality. Stop making me feel things before I’ve had coffee.”

The pad of Jon’s thumb brushes over his lips. “That’s where you’re going wrong.”

“Go on.”

“You seem to think I’d ever listen to you.”

After a roll of his eyes, Theon finally says, “thank you.”

“Now was that really so hard?” Jon asks against his lips.

“You’re pushing your luck,” says Theon right before he’s drawn by the hand at his jaw into a tender kiss.

He may struggle to articulate his thanks and, if he’s being honest, affection in words, but he’s not about to throw away the opportunity to show him how he feels. Jon moans, content and welcoming, when Theon parts their lips to deepen it from the planned peck, and then again when it becomes harsher, more demanding. Jon’s hands feel hot on Theon’s sides when he encourages his momentum to climb over until his knees bracket hips.

“Are you ready for your present now?” Theon grinds against him to ensure there’s no way Jon can misinterpret what he’s getting at, and smiles with delight at the way his boyfriends shakes with laughter beneath him. “Is that a yes?”


	5. Arya x Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya x Gendry - Flying home for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with thanks for the prompt to try out this pairing ❤️ I hope its alright!

After the long flight from Braavos, the chaos of arrivals is disorientating. With the sound of announcements over the tannoy and the noise of her fellow travellers and those greeting them in her ears, Arya walks like the sleep starved zombie she is out into the main hall, shivering in the cold of the North and hoping Jon will spot her quickly so as to save her from having to hunt herself.

She doesn’t regret the last minute decision to return home for Christmas, but she does regret having not made it sooner. Frantic cleaning and packing is not something that aids getting into the festive spirit.

When Arya spots him through the crowds, she stops still in her tracks and suffers the fate of a few annoyed tuts at the blockage caused. She’d already been feeling emotional. Now the tears spring in the corners of her eyes with no hope of holding them back.

“How…?” she asks once she’s recovered enough to approach him. “I thought --”

Gendry’s lips form a hesitant smile. “Jon called. I hope you’re not disappointed?”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Arya searches his face for a reaction, but his expression stays steady. “I was such an idiot.“

“I brought you something,” says Gendry, with only a small gnaw on his bottom lip to tell her he’s nervous, like nothing had ever happened. Like she hadn’t panicked and called off the attempted long distance relationship everyone had told them they were foolish to try.

Arya chuckles lightly, dabbing her eyes in a bid to contain herself. “I’m pretty certain I’m supposed to be the one bringing gifts.”

Reaching into a carrier bag, he produces a box of mince pies, and with it comes an unrestrained stream of tears trickling down her cheeks. 

“You remembered,” Arya laughs, recalling their first date and making the perhaps unusual choice of sweet in the coffeeshop, and his smile finally looks true to him. Pushing past the awkwardness she moves in to give him a one armed hug and finds herself looking up longingly at his lips. Then, in a moment of madness, she picks herself up onto her tiptoes hopefully. 

Her heart pounds in the couple of seconds it takes for Gendry to take up the invitation and kiss her softly on the lips. She inhales deep, he smells like home. “I love you,” she whispers, looking into sharp blue eyes. 

Gendry takes the pies from her and places them on the suitcase beside them, never moving his gaze from her. “I love you too,” he says right before he sweeps her into another kiss that eclipses all others. 

On the balls of her feet, Arya throws her arms over his shoulders. His hands move under her coat to hold her close, pulling her body into his until it curves against him and instead of tears it's a moan she can’t hold back. With so many months apart, they’re desperate to get as much of one another as possible. Now, the tuts she hears are for an entirely different reason.


	6. Theon x Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon x Theon - Work Christmas party

Distracted from his conversation with Bessa by the unnerving feeling of being watched, Theon glances across the dim room lit only by twinkling multicoloured fairy lights and the spinning snowflake shaped spotlights on the dancefloor very few people are making use of. Though he’s no longer looking in his direction, Theon can still see the trace of Snow’s scowl.

**Messaging:** Snow  
  
**Today** 10:05 PM  
**Theon:** Is there a problem?   
  


Jon retrieves his phone at a particularly slow pace while he nods politely at the story Alys is telling complete with wide sweeping gestures. It’s not until she finishes and Pyp goes on to speak to her that he finally does check the notification. His eyes flick over briefly before he begins to type. 

**Snow:** Are you trying to make me jealous?  
  
**Theon:** dunno   
  
**Theon:** is it working?   
  
**Snow:** No  
  
**Theon:** then why’d you ask?   
  


Theon can see the way Snow’s chest heave with an exasperated sigh even at this distance. His hands lower the phone and he looks to the ceiling while he ponders his next move. 

**Snow:** If you’d decided it was working then why did YOU ask?  
  
**Theon:** to have this darling convo with you  
  


This time when Jon looks over he lingers long enough for Theon to give him a quick wink. He stretches, opening himself out, an ankle on the opposite knee and his arm laid across the back of the booth. 

**Snow:** So you admit you’re trying to make me jealous?  
  
**Theon:** no, i’m saying you prob are without me trying  
  


Jon rolls his eyes. Not even at him, but at the screen. 

**Snow:** Lol  
  
**Theon:** did jon snow just ‘lol’?   
  
**Theon:** also  
  
**Theon:** can’t see you laughing   
  
**Snow:** It was sarcastic.  
  
**Theon:**...  
  
**Snow:** Like ‘don’t make me laugh’  
  
**Theon:** is that sarcasm?   
  
**Theon:** anyway, If you have to explain it this much it doesn’t work  
  


This time, Snow shakes his head and slips his phone back into his pocket without even looking back at him. It’s far more irritating than anything he could’ve thought to say, Theon is sure of that.

Try as he might, he struggles to keep up his end of the conversation at his own table. Instead, he finds his attention wandering, catches it on Jon running the rim of his mulled wine along his lips. And perhaps that’s bad enough, being preoccupied with the thought of Snow’s lips, his mouth, during their work Christmas party, but it's not as bad as how it gives a little flutter in his chest when he realises he’s smiling at the sweet way he presses the glass against his cheek to take comfort in the warmth. Just like he might with a tea or coffee in private.

**Theon:** i’ve missed you   
  
**Snow:** I’ve only been gone a week.  
  
**Theon:** and?  
  
**Snow:** You really can’t go a week?  
  
**Snow:** Couldn’t find anyone else to entertain you?  
  
**Theon:** no  
  


It’s not enough of an answer for Jon who turns his phone face down on the table. Typical. He needs a good shaking up. 

**Theon:** no one i wanted to  
  
**Today** 10:37 PM  
**Theon:** i’ve been thinking about you   
  


He takes his time checking the new messages, but when he does, Jon’s head turns ever so slightly. He side eyes Theon sat across the room, and Theon is certain it’s supposed to be a cynical look until he cracks with a smirk and it turns into one of flirtiest expressions he thinks he’s ever seen him pull. 

**Snow:** You too  
  
**Theon:** what bout me?  
  
**Snow:** Greyjoy, I’m not sexting at a work do  
  
**Theon:** ah  
  
**Theon:** so those kinds of thoughts  
  
**Theon:** how about you tell me about them later?  
  
**Theon:** or show  
  
**Theon:** your choice  
  
**Snow:** Sure you’ve not got other plans?  
  
**Theon:** they’re friends, snow  
  
**Snow:** What am I?  
  
**Snow:** Shit  
  
**Snow:** Pretend I didn’t say that.  
  


Theon isn’t given a chance to reply before Jon is getting up from his seat and walking his way with purpose towards the only exit. He keeps his eyes lowered, avoids looking at Theon, but a small hold up at the door gives Theon just enough time to catch his wrist. The look on Jon’s face reads as startled as he feels, but Theon smiles like this is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Where are you going?” he shouts over the music, fingers slipping down to Jon’s hand.

Jon’s tongue darts over his lips before he mimes drinking. “Want one?”

“I can’t hear you!” Theon lies and tugs at his hand to get him lip to ear. “What are you after?”

“Theon,” Jon protests weakly, then instantly crumbles at the feel of the sneaky kiss placed at his jaw. The turn of their heads towards each other is simultaneous, slow, a graze of lips against cheeks, hesitant until their hot breaths mingle and any resolve about keeping this thing between them falls, because the moment Jon’s tongue slips into his mouth he knows there’s no coming back from this.

It _has_ ‘only’ been a week, but when the the weeks before it have seen them take any opportunity to sneak off together, it’s been akin to torture. In any case, his hand on the back of Jon’s thigh, urging him closer is probably going a bit too far if they want to make this out as being a drunken snog. Seems Snow thinks as little of this as Theon does just from how eagerly his shin slips up to rest on his lap.

Free hand slipping beneath the christmas jumper Jon has on - which Theon has to admit is surprisingly tasteful in a way he suspects others would disapprove of as not being ugly or tacky or joyful enough - and finding hot bare skin, Theon holds him close and ignores the surrounding fallout around them. He can’t blame them, it’s not everyday two ordinarily warring colleagues seem to spontaneously get off in front of a roomful of people.


	7. Jon x Satin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon x Satin - working late on Christmas Eve

Satin approaches with caution through the gloomy main office to the lit desk just by the chief inspectors office. Many of the other desks are covered in tinsel and small fake Christmas trees laden with the shiniest tackiest baubles the occupant could find. Satin’s happens to include a plastic Santa stuck with blutack to his computer monitor. Not Jon’s desk though.

The only thing on Jon’s desk that acknowledges the date is the calendar flipped to December.

That is, until Satin slips the slice of christmas cake along with the coffee beside Jon’s elbow and startles the young detective inspector who quickly lifts his head from his palm to look at him.

“Satin!” Jon quietly exclaims and looks pointlessly around them both. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone home when everyone else did.”

“Not yet, no. I didn’t want to leave before at least plying you with some sustenance… and reminding you that it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I… “ Jon draws his hand down his face. “Sorry, thank you. I appreciate it.” He looks half asleep. Satin had thought to convince him out for a drink with the rest. Perhaps see if he could pick up the courage to make his interest clear. But it’s not looking good. “I need to stick around though… There has to be something I’m missing. You should go though. I’m sure you have places to be.”

Though that may be true, Satin is ready to set aside any plans for just a little alone time in the vain hope that Jon might finally, properly, notice him… or perhaps just find out whether he’s not imagining the small looks and shy glances he gives him now and again.

“At least take a quick break.”

A faint smile plays on Jon’s lips. “I guess it can’t hurt,” he concedes and breaks off a piece of cake. “Mmm, that’s good.”

Satin smiles with pride as he pulls over one of the office chairs from the next desk along to sit by him, he had an inkling he had a thing for such things. There’s not many young people that go for fruit and nut as a chocolate bar of choice.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Jon asks him idly, no doubt expecting the standard response of which family members or in laws he’ll be with, perhaps a lighthearted jab at some annual annoyance.

“I imagine I’ll watch It’s a Wonderful Life and Die Hard back to back, and eat far too much.” He senses Jon look up from his cup of coffee to study him. Jon doesn’t voice the question, but he feels compelled to answer anyway. Perhaps do a little more than just answer. “I don’t really have family. And I’m not, um, I don’t have someone to spend it with.”

“Oh…” There’s some colour forming on Jon’s cheeks. “Well, I… I could ask my step mum if –”

“No. No, I don’t want any hassle. But thank you.”

“No, really, it’s no trouble,” Jon hurries to tell him. “There’s so many of us I’m sure there’s room for one more.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” Jon asserts with a somewhat more confident smile. He clears his throat bashfully a third into eating the cake. “Sorry, I don’t… I’m not a fan of…” He gestures towards the marzipan and icing left behind.

Satin laughs. “It’s the only part I like.” Wordlessly, Jon pushes the napkin a little towards him. “Thank you,” he says, scooting his chair a little closer to accept the pieces of cake covering, “I’m as bad as a child.”

“We’ll have to stick together in future. We make a perfect pair.” Satin’s heart lurches as it becomes quickly evident that Jon has realised just what he’s said. Ordinarily, one could get away with this, say it without a second thought, just had Jon had initially, but he’s subsequently turned red, looking more flustered than Satin has ever seen him. He’s sure then that this is his answer.

Slowly, giving Jon the chance to pull away, he leans in towards who he’s very much aware is his superior and plants a soft kiss on his lips. The feel of Jon’s hand moving from the chair arm to his cheek, the sweep of the thumb against his skin, gives Satin a rush and the nerve to part his lips, but he’s thrown when Jon leaves him hanging.

“I’m sorry,” Jon is wide eyed, “are you sure you –”

Satin huffs of a small laugh, but declines to point out he’d been the one to initiate. He wonders, as he pushes forwards again and Jon’s mouth opens under his, as he swallows the murmured groan that he draws, if Jon would have ever made the decision to break rules.

He might not like the cake but it tastes heavenly on Jon’s tongue.


	8. Theon x Jeyne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon x Jeyne - Pantomime

Jeyne tries not to smile too broadly at the look on Theon’s face as he looks up at her from where he is knelt on the stage. Or react to the tickle of his hand or the shoe he holds ready to slide onto her foot. She needs to get through this just one more time. They need to get through this one more time. So while the gag between the dame and the audience is ongoing she stares at the ruffles on his costume just below his chin.

It may possibly be her imagination, but it feels as though this time, the final time, that Theon slips the ‘glass’ slipper onto her foot slower than ever before. He does have a cheekier smirk than she’s ever known when someone shouts “it fits!” and that’s saying something.

While the crowd calls out hurray, Theon springs up and offers out his hand to help her from the seat. This is the point at which they should simply hold hands and look lovingly into one another’s eyes, ignoring the others around them on stage, which has proved more and more difficult each time they have acted it out on account of how the blush on her cheeks, which she’s sure has become more and more pronounced. Today, however, Theon has other ideas.

“Kiss me,” he whispers, voice hoarse. She could pin this on weeks of shows. This is their second of the day. But she’s inclined not to.

Jeyne hesitates. Time seems to stand still while she simply stares at him, though she knows it from the thump of her heart in her chest that it does not despite the blur of those beyond them.

He’s such a trouble causer. Hasn’t even had the decency to wait until they are both dolled up in sparkling outfits. No, she has to still be wearing Cinderella’s rags. There’s a wedding in which he could have done it for crying out loud. And they are very almost no longer coworkers. He does have a penchant for drama. 

Still, it is tempting and perhaps fitting considering this is the moment they are the most wrapped up in each other. So, right at the last moment, she picks herself up onto her the tip of her toes to lean in for his kiss. The flick out of her foot wearing the slipper is a theatrical moment she hopes will cement this as scripted. 

The kiss itself is a kiss one might expect from a goody toe shoes Prince Charming, the simple touch of lips, and rather unlike the one they share in her dressing room just after she has jokingly brandished the famous slipper on him. During this kiss her foot moves only to kick the door shut because she has no wish for the scandal of an audience with the noises she makes nor the way Theon touches her.


	9. Theon x Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon x Jon - Snowball fight

Jon yelps when the first snowball hits his back. This is uncalled for. He hasn’t even involved himself in the fight. 

“Hey!” he yells, turning to look at who had thrown it, but everyone else seems too invested in their little war with one another. Everyone except Greyjoy who is scrolling through his phone whilst avoiding the chaos. They all know hitting him would go down like a lead balloon.

_Maybe it was a stray_ , he muses.

Turning his attention back to RIckon, Jon lifts what is to be the snowman’s head and places it on top of the body. “How’s that?”

Rickon smiles, his cheeks are ruddy from the icy air. “Good!”

“Why don’t you go and see if we can get a carrot for the nose?”

It’s while he watches his small brother take off that he’s hit on the back of the head. A good deal of it falls down inside his coat when it shatters and has him cry out. This time when he spins he locks eyes on the tilt of Theon’s lips. Sensing Jon watching him, he can’t even manage to keep his eyes on the screen, but looks up and meets Jon’s stare and the second Jon is coming after him though he leaps up from where he’s sat on the wall.

“Wait!” he calls out with laughter as Jon chases him down the passageway to the front garden. “Have mercy.”

“Do you think you deserve it?” Jon asks, launching a snowball at him.

Theon turns to face him, blocking his attack with arms held up. “Snow! I just wanted to get you alone!”

Playing dumb, Jon raises a brow. “What for?”

Theon crooks his finger and beckons him over until his own back is against the brick wall with Jon up against him. And who is he to resist? Theon’s kiss is so welcome after days of failing to sneak away and get any time alone that Jon doesn’t immediately notice the hand reaching along to the snow collected on the window ledge nearby. Once he does, there's not enough time to move before it’s thrust against the side of his head.

Jon gasps, immediately tensing up from the cold and leaving Greyjoy the opportunity to duck out of his hold and take off.

“You're such a dick!” he yells, running after Theon and stooping to pick up a handful of snow to pelt him with along the way, too caught up to consider anyone within earshot. He’s still laughing when Greyjoy slips and and slides on the ice of the drive after being hit, trying to catch himself by holding out his hands.

“Wait,” Theon begs him, already knowing where this is going, but Jon’s not about to go easy on him. Taking the opportunity, he tackles him into the snow on the front lawn. The snow crunches under Theon when he falls into it. “Oof, you swine.”

Jon hovers over him, breath billowing in the air. “You ok?”

“Oh, so now you care?”

“Just want to know how much retaliation to expect,” admits Jon, offering out a hand. It’s a mistake, a big mistake. 

He’s pulled down onto Theon and in seconds is flipped onto his back with Greyjoy pinning him. Already in the frame of mind from the kiss the rush runs through him like wildfire. Jon swallows hard, forcing himself not to buck his hips and seek friction from where Theon straddles him. He supposes then that Theon feels the same or at least isn’t oblivious to where his mind goes with this, because moments later he’s leaning in for the kiss despite the cold. Glad to be wearing a decent hat and safe in the knowledge Theon has hold of both his wrists and can’t strike, he feels the tension melt away for just a moment before they hear company arrive and snow sprays from the impact against Theon’s back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you would like to send [a kiss prompt](https://salty-wench.tumblr.com/post/637026323362086912/fictional-kiss-prompts) pop it in [an ask on tumblr](https://salty-wench.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments along with a pairing! (If you would like an AU other than modern e.g. historical, please let me know!)


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